


FIC: Inflagrante Disapparato

by jagnikjen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione almost get caught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Inflagrante Disapparato

**In Flagrante Disaparato**

Hermione descended the stairs as quietly as she could. She'd woken from a strange dream, the gist of which faded quickly but had left a lingering feeling of unease. Tossing and turning for more minutes than necessary, she was unable to shake her anxiety. It seemed best to get up, visit the loo, and get a quick drink of water before trying to go back to sleep.

Skipping the various creaking steps, she reached the ground floor of the Burrow and padded into the kitchen. Pulling her wand from her bathrobe, she muttered, “lumos,” and a faint light, just enough to navigate by, spilled from the end of it.

She fetched a small glass from the open-faced cabinet and said, “Aguamenti.” The glass filled with water and Hermione emptied it in one long swallow, setting the glass in the sink. She’d wash it in the morning.

“What are you doing up? It's the middle of the night,” Ron asked coming around the staircase.

Hermione jumped. “Merlin, Ron, you scared me,” she snapped in a harsh whisper, as she tightened her dressing gown around herself, thankful she'd thrown it on. Although it wasn't as if Ron hadn't ever seen her nightclothes. He had. More than once, especially during their year on the run with Harry.

“Sorry, couldn't sleep. Hungry.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Should have known.”

“What about you?” He tugged open the pantry door and perused the contents.

“Bad dream.”

He looked at her, concern softening his face. “What about?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “I don't really remember now, but it left me a bit jumpy.”

He tugged her into his arms. “I’m sorry, ‘Mione, why didn’t you come wake me?” Ron’s arms cocooned her and she instantly felt safe and protected. The last vestiges of her anxiety melted away.

She shrugged easily within the loose confines of his embrace. “I figured a quick drink of water and the walk up and down the stairs would be enough. Besides, Harry's up there sleeping. I wouldn't have wanted to wake him.”

“Are you kidding? With the way I snore? Besides, you know it takes more than you tiptoeing in to disturb him.”

“That's true…” How many times had she walked past a slumbering Harry without him even stirring? Not only here at the Burrow, but all that time spent in that tent.

Before she realized it, she and Ron were sitting side by side on the sofa. A small lamp glowed in the far corner, but the room remained mostly in shadow.

Ron's warmth radiated toward her, pulling her to his side as if by an invisible string. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the rhythmic thud of his heart. His arm curled around her and she released a deep breath of contentment. It wasn't often things were this easy between them and she let the thought float away. She would just enjoy the moment with him.

“All right?”

She felt his question rumble beneath her ear more than she actually heard it and offered a positive sound in return.

He drew circles on her shoulder with his forefinger, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

“Cold?”

She murmured “no” and shook her head, which ended up being little more than a jerk.

His hand played in her hair, twirling a small section of it around his finger. The small action sent another shiver through her. She tilted her face upward and he looked down. Their gazes locked and she held her breath even though her heart continued to thump. Though the lamp was across the room and its light dim, she could read his expression clearly. He loved her. He wanted her. But would he go for it?

His eyes caressed her face. Of its own accord, her tongue darted out and moistened her bottom lip, drawing Ron's gaze. He licked his own lips and a whiff of spearmint toothpaste teased her nose. Her stomach fluttered. His arm tightened around her, forcing her closer to him. Her heart pounded faster and she felt the answering thump of his.

He raised a brow, not so much asking her permission as signaling his intent, though he waited a blink of an eye for her to object had she a mind to. She didn't. His eyes returned to her lips and a moment later, her lids shut when his mouth touched hers. Softly, firmly, he kissed her, over and over, their mouths opening a little more with each subsequent kiss. It turned into full-on snogging when his tongue finally snaked its way into her mouth, and her own greeted it like an old friend.

Her arm slid along his chest, around his neck and into the soft hairs at the back of his head. She sighed into his kiss. She could stay like this forever. His hand curled around her shoulder and slid down her back, caressing her bum for a moment and then inching back upwards until he slid his splayed fingers into her hair and kissed her even harder. Want flared in her privates and she mewled into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, leaving them both breathing heavy.

“Hermione...”

“Ron...”

Hermione found herself straddling Ron’s lap, his tackle growing harder beneath her tingling center. Large hands cupped her aching breasts, tweaking the nipples. She arched into his touch, grinding down on him. “Yes, Ron, that’s lovely. Squeeze harder,” she said, breathless. He moaned in return and did as she asked.

But Hermione wanted to feel Ron’s hands on her skin. She shrugged out of her dressing gown, pulled her summer nightgown over her head, and shimmied out of the scrap of lace she’d worn.

Ron’s eyes widened and drifted to the pale flesh of her breasts and finally to her eyes. His complexion had gone an unflattering shade of pink, but she didn’t care about that. She cared about the package in his pants. The Weasley men all seemed well endowed. Even Mr. Weasley, though she’d never admit to checking out the family patriarch. But the boys had to get it from somewhere, right?

“Go on then,” she whispered, “touch me. Put your mouth on me.”

Swallowing, Ron cupped her breasts and then leaned forward and licked one.

“Again.”

He did so. A pleasurable thrumming filled her, concentrated at her core. She wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to be filled by him.

Scooting backwards along his thighs, she yanked at the tie of his pyjama bottoms.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Shagging you, Ron. Don’t you want to?” So much for the moment.

“Y-yes, of course” His voice cracked. “But here? Now?”

“Why not here and now?” Of all the Weasley children, only Ron would hesitate. Well, maybe Percy would, too. But none of the others. Not even Ginny. Hermione sighed. Most people thought she was the prude, but it was really Ron who preferred privacy.

“What if Mum or Dad wake up?”

“What if they do?” She and Ron were old enough to apparate. Neither Molly nor Arthur would know who it was.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, if Mum and Dad catch us—”

“They won’t. Now, do you want to shag me or not?”

Ron nodded and swallowed.

“Then lose the pajamas and pants.”

Hermione rose to her knees as Ron lifted his body and slid his bottoms over his erection, past his arse and down his thighs. Her bits clenched at the sight of his length. They’d only done it a couple of times and Hermione was keen to have him again.

Hovering over Ron’s erection, she positioned it and then seated herself snugly, a sigh of delight floating from her.

Ron’s hands clamped onto her hips. “Blimey, Hermione,” he said in a high-pitched, somewhat hoarse voice.

And then she began to move, up and down, along his deliciously long, thick cock. The heat rushed her cheeks. She didn’t normally use that word, but there was no other that fit quite right at the moment.

Ron moaned and whimpered beneath her, meeting each downward slide of hers with a slight upward thrust in return.

She rode him, allowing her head to fall backwards and force her breasts out. The air was cool and her nipples tightened. How she longed to feel his mouth on them again, sucking, sucking, sucking.

Hermione gasped when wet warmth tugged on her left breast. “Nn...guh...Ronnn...”

Up and down she moved, her breathing keeping pace with her actions. Her breasts tingled, and pleasure rippled over her. She was so close.

The ceiling creaked and they instantly stilled. Her heart thumped and Ron’s eyes flew open, abject panic within. Hermione put a finger to her lips. He gulped and his erection flagged a bit.

They marked someone’s progress across the room above them. Arthur and Molly’s room. A faint, but recognizable squeak indicated the door had been opened.

“Hermione...” he whispered roughly.

“Is someone down there?” asked Molly, her voice soft with sleep.

His eyes opened wider. As did his mouth.

Hermione pressed her finger against it and leaned forward. “Do you trust me?” she whispered across his ear.

He nodded.

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” she asked again.

“Yes,” he whispered in reply.

“Look into my eyes...” She grabbed up her clothes and set her hands on his shoulders. “...pull up your knees and grab my waist.” He did so instantly.

Molly started down the stairs. “Who’s out of bed?”

“Now,” he mouthed.

Hermione smiled and murmured, “One...two...three...”

Ron took the brunt of the landing with Hermione still straddling his mid-section, though his softening erection had slipped from her body on the ride.

Hermione looked around and grinned. They were in Ron’s room, on his bed. Harry slept on the camp bed, facing away from them, snoring lightly.

Ron relaxed and stretched out. “Blimey, Hermione, you did it. And no one got splinched.”

“Of course not, you git. Now, where were we?” She tossed her gown aside and leaned over to kiss him, her breasts drawing his gaze. His face went red and his eyes snapped to Harry and then back to hers.

“Here? With Harry right there?”

Hermione nodded and smiled wickedly. She began moving again, slipping and sliding along Ron’s once-again thickening shaft. “Yes, Ron,” she whispered, “You know you want to. Now, make me come.”

Ron glanced at Harry, who slept on, chest rising and falling in a deep even rhythm. When his met hers again, she noted the excited lust shimmering in his eyes. He nodded and slid his hands up the length of Hermione’s thighs. He brushed the edge of her pubic hair, sending a ripple of electricity through her, as his hands continued on until he reached her hips. His warm hands clutched her hips and arse as he pumped into her.

They found a common pace and rhythm, their eyes locked, and their breathing soughed quietly and in tandem through the room.

Her body began to hum as it wound ever closer to that most delicious sensation of orgasm. She moved faster and faster, up and down, around and around, on Ron’s delightfully hard erection until she crested the peak and went tumbling over the other side. She stilled outwardly as her inner muscles clenched around Ron. She groaned low in her chest, unable to remain completely silent. Once the initial bliss had cleared, she murmured, “C'mon, Ron, your turn. Come for me. Come in me. C'mon...”

Finally, a moan tore from Ron's throat and he spewed inside her, his cock pulsing as he did so.

She collapsed on top of him, kissing his chest and shoulder and neck.

~*~*~

Everyone sat at the breakfast table, hair mussed, pyjamas wrinkled, eating while half-asleep. Except Hermione. She’d always been an early riser despite late nights. And was already ready for the day. She might need a nap later however.

Molly stood at the end of the table hands on her hips. “Someone, or should I say, a pair of someones, was up to a bit of mischief last night.”

Ron coughed around his cereal and turned bright red. No one batted an eye, however, as he responded that way to any mention of sex, whether he was a participant or not. And everyone doubted he ever was. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Everyone else had perked up at Molly’s announcement and glanced speculatively around the table. George wore an amused grin. Harry and Ginny shared a look, she arched a brow and he shrugged. Percy just looked indignant.

“I have evidence, circumstantial though it is.”

“What?” asked Ron in a high-pitched choke.

Everyone looked at Molly, including Hermione.

So that’s where her sexy red knickers had gotten to. She’d wondered.

Molly pulled the scrap of red lace and satin ribbon from her pocket.

Ron’s eyes went about as large as the bowl holding the dregs of his cereal.

“Oh, those are lovely,” said George. “Wish I’d been the lucky bloke.”

“George,” exclaimed Molly, frowning.

“Mum,” replied George.

Harry and Ginny both snickered.

“It’s not funny. I won’t stand for anyone not married to be intimate inside this house. Is that clear? I’ll cast the in flagrante spell on the lot of you and then we’ll see who’s done the deed recently.”

“And that’s all it tell you, mum, not who did the deed in the sitting room last night,” said George with a smirk. “Depending on how recent recently is, I’d venture to say, everyone in this room would be marked.”

Molly gasped. Percy shook his head. Ron was the color of his Gryffindor jumper.

“Now, I’ll take those.” George rose and plucked them from Molly’s hand. “And return them to the pretty lady to whom they belong.” He strode out of the kitchen swirling the lace around his index finger.

“And just how do you know who that is,” Ginny called after him, “if you weren’t the lucky bloke?”

“I have my ways,” he called back. His footsteps sounded on the stairs a moment later.

~*~

Later that afternoon, Harry, Ginny and Ron swooped and dived half-heartedly over the orchard, laughing and calling to one another. Hermione lay on a blanket, a book open in front of her.

“Why, hello, sister-of-mine-to-be...”

Hermione started in surprise and looked to see George rolling to a stop beside her.

“He has to ask first. And I have to say yes.”

His brow arched as he took her hand and covered it with his own, leaving her a handful of satin and lace.

“I do believe these are yours.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Nice try, Hermione. But this is Georgie you’re talking to. You can’t kid a kidder.”

“How did you know?”

“You had no reaction what-so-ever. It seemed a little suspicious to me.”

She shoved the knickers into her pocket. “Don’t say anything to Ron, please. He’d be so embarrassed to know you know.”

“Ah, well, here’s the thing…who do you think picked them out?”

**~ Fin ~**

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [smutty_claus exchange 2012](http://smutty-claus.livejournal.com/194280.html) on LiveJournal.


End file.
